Page 40 of Torn from the Alien Commander

More tech could only help us, especially if things go sideways.

“We can set the weapons to stun, right?” I inquire, looking to Felixus, who nods with affirmation. “And I promise we’ll return everything once we’re done here,” I declare, side-eyeing Mod, who’s in the process of hiding his laser pistol in his long coat, prompting him to stop with a shrug.

“Fine,” Felixus grumbles, folding his arms.

“Come on, we’ve wasted enough time,” I urge, turning to exit the room.

“Wait. One more thing,” Felixus declares, his hands darting over the console. “There! I’ve faked an incoming Scythian attack near the Imperial palace. Some defenses will be sent packing, only to wait on their arse.” He lets out a short laugh.

“Great job.” I smile at Felixus, my voice filled with honest gratitude. Excitement surges within me. On the verge of findingmy love, this desperate mission is going better than I dared hope. “I’ll go first,” I declare, exiting the central control room.

Casting nervous glances down either end of the corridor, I’m relieved it’s clear. With my rifle snug to my shoulder, I take careful steps, inching down the passage, my senses sharp to the faintest noise, the briefest flicker.

I won’t mess up, not when I’m so close.

Hyanxa follows close behind, stalking with grace—the others not so much.I’ve worked with quieter hyperdrive engines!But I forge ahead, ignoring the other rooms, knowing the location of the stairwell lies at the end of the corridor.

The dull sound of distant voices prompts me to halt with a raised hand. Peering down my rifle sight, heart pounding, I see two purple-clad Nebian guards conversing. I signal to the others, then glide into a prone position, silent as the void. Hyanxa joins me, mirroring my actions.

Through the scope, I see them clearly under the bright blue lights from the ceiling. The Nebians share a laugh, gesturing back and forth. They have no right to smile, not while Xander suffers under their watch. With practiced precision, I align my reticule to the left guard’s forehead, taking a deep breath and holding it, my fingers caressing the trigger, smooth as polished arcweave.

“Fire!” I roar,

Crimson bursts forth, bathing the blue-lit, white-walled corridor in red. My laser blast strikes home, never in doubt. But to my stunned surprise, a red shimmer pulses around my target. “Voiding laser shields!” I yell, noticing the guards turning in shock, reaching to level their own rifles.

I waste no time unleashing a flurry of precision strikes. Time appears to slow as each laser streak, hit’s the guard’s chest, yet his shield continues to absorb the damage. The Nebian’s gun,aimed in my direction, forces me to suppress a flinch, knowing each microsecond is crucial.

Just fall, just fall, just fall.

I plead silently, pelting his stubborn laser shield with more accurate shots. Then, in answer to my frantic prayers, the red shimmering shield blinks out of existence. My next burst of accurate shots strikes his chest, folding him over in an instant. But before I can savor my fleeting victory, red blasts sear the ground beside me, the sparks stinging my hand.

I wince, and gasp in shock, seeing Hyanxa’s target now prone, returning fire. My heart pounds in my chest, knowing we’re defenseless against her attacks. Hyanxa’s shots aren’t as accurate as mine, veering off in various directions, close but not close enough. Distance shooting isn’t her specialty—but it is mine.

My shots ripple the female guard’s shield, hoping to jar her aim and prevent her from killing us. Despite my blasts, her retaliations come thick and fast, scorching the surrounding walls, growing dangerously closer with each attempt.

Hyanxa yells in pain, clutching her wrist and dropping her rifle. My heart sinks, but I dare not stop. I blast flurries of crimson beams, each warping and undulating the target’s shield. I gasp as one of her reprisals singes my hair, the frightening scorching heat too close to my ear. But with clenched teeth I remain steady, not giving an inch, not a nanometer, not until one of us falls.

Then, as I expect her next burst to find its mark, my blasts finally penetrate her laser shields, striking her head. She turns limp in an instant and I suck in gulping breaths, each lungful a taste of victory for the air I was holding back to steady my aim. “You okay Hyanxa?” I ask between breaths.

Hyanxa rises, clutching her wrist. “The bitch caught me good,” she winces. I turn round, looking for the others who, to my chagrin, have all retreated down the hall.

“All clear!” I shout, reaching down to help Hyanxa up. I grimace at the sight of blood running down her arm. “Can you still fight?” I ask, cutting a stripe of cloth from my shirt.

“I can still use this.” Hyanxa smiles, patting her ballistic machine pistol. The others catch up, their eyes darting between Hyanxa’s injury and the two fallen guards. “Mod, you got any of that sweet, sweet healing ointment?” she asks.

Mod retrieves one of his jars—the black oily one that I’ve become far too familiar with recently. “Perhaps I charge next time. Ingredients expensive. No?” He comments, handing the jar over.

“You’re getting paid plenty,” I remind him, watching Hyanxa dowse her wound and the strip of cloth in generous amounts of the black oily substance before wrapping her arm.

“Here, take this,” Hyanxa offers her fallen laser rifle to Quad, who only turns it over with increasing disdain.

“You take.” Quad shoves the gun towards Felixus, his lips curled in disgust, like Xandors face when he eats Nutripaste.

“Let’s get Xandor and get the void out of here,” I declare, guiding us down the corridor. The air is tense, every step echoing in the silence. Each room passed with bated breath. My grip tightens on my rifle, my mind racing with thoughts of Xandor.

“Oh!” Hyanxa shudders, throwing her head back. “Hmm, I love when the liquid hits just right,” she moans, breaking the silence. As we pass the two fallen guards, I scrutinize them, turning them over with my foot. But they’re frozen in place, stiff as arcweave with glassy eyes.

I check my gun, ensuring it’s on stun mod, frowning. “They aren’t dead, are they?” I ask, seeing no holes punched through them.

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